


Anniversary

by idonthaveyourappetite



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, This is My Design, but short enough to not give anything away, hunting and fishing, hunting is problem solving, ish, or based roughly on our fic, this formatting is fucked, this is a kind of epilogue/sequel/whatever to our fic, ~~~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idonthaveyourappetite/pseuds/idonthaveyourappetite
Summary: Will pulled back and twisted the ring around his finger almost shyly.“It’s our anniversary, you know. Did you have anything in mind?” His demeanor was coy and almost coquettish, as if he knew the answer already. Hannibal’s heart sang. Hunting.[this is tangentially related to the collaborative story. But also just an attempt to write something angst-free. <3 <3 <3]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



It was autumn again, the harvest moon ripe and glowing overhead as they walked beneath it through the dry, dead leaves. The unmistakable autumn wind, so noticeable here, stirred something in both of them. No words were necessary. Will took Hannibal's hand in his own and slipped it under the thin stuff of his shirt, Hannibal’s fingers instinctively finding and ghosting possessively over the scar there. _Mine_.  
Will tipped his head back, an acknowledgement, and his smile was all teeth. _You want it again, don’t you?_ Hannibal's dark eyes glittered in malicious assent. Will looked up at him through half-closed eyes, the fire there visible through his long lashes. Hannibal was willing to let it burn, willing to let it consume them both. _Careful, Hannibal. Remember what happened last time…_  
Hannibal felt Will’s heartbeat, pounding blood and desire through his veins, and his eyes glinted like knives in the dark. _I do. And so do you, beloved. You have scars from that too, if I recall._

Will pulled back and twisted the ring around his finger almost shyly.  
“It’s our anniversary, you know. Did you have anything in mind?” His demeanor was coy and almost coquettish, as if he knew the answer already. Hannibal’s heart sang. _Hunting_. 

A devilish, knowing smile curved Will's lips. “What I should have said was, did you have _anyone_ in mind?” 

Hannibal’s arms closed around him like a snare. Their kiss was ferocious.

“That couple at the grocery store?”  
Will laughed against Hannibal’s lips; his breath warm and familiar, his excitement contagious.  
“You want to go doubles now?”  
Hannibal pushed Will against the trunk of an old dead tree, noting with satisfaction the needy way his breath hitched and how he instinctively, submissively, tipped his head back. _Oh, Will._  
“It could prove an interesting experience. However, I doubt their conduct, disruptive as it may have been, meets your standards.”  
“No—it doesn't--" Will gasped and writhed against him, hardening instantly. “Surely you can do better."  
“That man—“ Hannibal groaned as Will ripped his shirt open and scratched down his chest, drawing blood already. And the night was so young. “The man at dinner—who looked at you so lewdly—"  
“Possessive, Hannibal?” Will's voice was teasing but the taunt was undermined by need; he arched against Hannibal’s body, seeking, yearning—  
“Indeed. He was coveting what is mine.” Hannibal emphasized the word by forcing a knee between Will’s thighs. Will groaned and bit his lip, his eyes fluttering closed.  
“That—these are weak suggestions, Hannibal. I take it you already have someone in mind, then?"  
He fisted his hands in Hannibal’s half-open dress shirt and spun them around, unbuckling Hannibal’s belt as he littered his neck and chest with bites.  
“Yes—“ Will was pleased to hear that Hannibal shared every bit of his desperation.  
“Do tell.”  
“The convenience store owner—“  
Will immediately knew the man to whom Hannibal was referring. Cold, beady eyes. Confederate flags in his yard, flying high over his emaciated pit bulls he kept outside on chains. Once, when they’d stopped to fill their car with gasoline, he had mocked Hannibal’s accent and joked about keeping out immigrants.  
Will sucked bruises into the skin of Hannibal’s neck and Hannibal’s hand came up to stroke his hair as he continued.  
“Terribly rude. Licentious, discourteous, prejudiced. Ah— _Will_ —"  
“Go on.” Will murmured against Hannibal’s shoulder, mouthing gently at the fresh bite marks there.  
“Three ex-wives, two of whom were hospitalized due to domestic violence. And…” Will had the feeling Hannibal was saving the ‘best’ for last.  
“And?”  
“The local humane society seems to believe he participates in an underground dogfighting ring. He appears to sit right on the point where our designs intersect.”  
Will raised his eyes to Hannibal’s, pretending to consider.  
“You’ve obviously done your research.”  
“I’m a good fisherman, too, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was a lion’s purr. Taking advantage of Will’s hesitation, Hannibal roughly maneuvered him back against the tree and opened his pants with a deft, impatient hand. Will gasped as his back scraped against the bark of the tree, wrapping his legs around Hannibal’s waist and his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders. Hannibal’s cold fingers pressed against him and Will bit his shoulder, hard, to contain the breathy noises of need.  
“Please—Hannibal—more—"  
Hannibal rolled his hips, creating slow and deliberate friction between them, and murmured, “is that a yes, then?”  
“Yes. _God yes_. It’s _perfect_."


End file.
